Secondhand
by achieving elysium
Summary: A healing Quirk cannot raise the dead. Instead, they say, time heals all wounds. Shimura Nana wakes up in a future that is completely unknown to her. A future that she is apparently not a part of. What do you do when your future is failure? Time Travel AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_Secondhand_**  
achieving elysium

* * *

When Shimura Nana woke on the ground, dust billowing in clouds around her and warm blood seeping through torn fabric, she did what she did best. The only thing she could think of doing.

She got up.

It wasn't as easy as it should have been. The world spun as she pushed herself up, but finally Nana staggered to her feet. She almost fell again but didn't—couldn't—and took everything in.

This wasn't the first time she'd woken up and not known where she was. But—she didn't remember what happened either. Nana remembered faintly that she was bleeding and looked down. A few cuts and lacerations that were bleeding sluggishly.

"Good," she murmured. Nana took a second, wondering… no, she felt fine. She could do this.

She slid off a glove, hands warm and sticky with sweat, and pressed her fingers gently to the torn skin over her knees. Focused. A thrill ran up her spine, and a feeling like water, rushing, dripping.

The cuts disappeared slowly, going from an angry, wet red back to the paleness of her skin. She healed the rest, a pass over her ribs, bruises on her arms. When Nana was done, she felt a bit woozy, staggering forward as the sun flared brightly.

A fight. The thought registered. She must have been in a fight and— what, knocked out? Nana lifted her hand and ran fingers through her hair, feeling along her scalp, but there was no sign of being hit. A Quirk?

Nana thought back. There was a kind of blank expanse where her memories should have been. Okay. That was a problem she could deal with later. She focused on the last thing she _did _remember, which was—

"_Toshinori_."

Panic made her jolt awake. Her heart stuttered— what if he'd been caught in it, too? Whatever had happened the night before, whatever villain she'd faced. Was he hurt? Was he looking for her?

She fumbled at her side for her phone, pressing the buttons clumsily. She put in Toshinori's number and hit _call_, lifting it to her ear. Nothing. Nothing.

It didn't even ring. She choked on air, her throat tight, and pulled her phone to see the signal gone.

Nana swore. If Toshinori were here she never would have let him hear her like this, but the fact was that he _wasn't _here. She lifted her phone, squinting past the sun. No signal.

She looked around. She'd woken up near a back alley somewhere, the smell of trash in heat cloying and thick. Nana stumbled out into the open and saw a quiet, almost-empty neighborhood. It didn't look familiar. She slid off the gloves and tucked them away, then took down the cape around her shoulders and wrapped it around the smaller one at her waist.

It was possible Toshinori was in no danger at all, she told herself. And he was strong, though he didn't always look it. He'd proven himself capable of taking care of himself in the fighting department, at least, so she didn't have to feel so worried.

_Think. _

She had to find Sorahiko. If Toshinori wasn't here, suffering the same fate as her, then he would be under Sorahiko's sharp, watchful gaze. It was Sorahiko Nana trusted, Sorahiko who Nana knew she could entrust her successor.

Most of the time, anyway. It was that thought that made Nana smile for the first time since she'd woken up. Her dear boy. Her dearest friend.

She set off, slipping quietly through the neighborhood. Out of the row of houses she ran into a more populated part, seeing civilians wandering about shops and restaurants. Her phone proved useless, but Nana didn't need it anymore. She wasn't that far from Sorahiko's place and flagged down a taxi, tapping fingers against her thigh.

When a taxi stopped for her Nana clambered in gratefully. She rattled off Sorahiko's address, and the world began to pass by outside. Nana watched the buildings as the driver took a familiar route.

They passed by shops she knew, but when the car paused Nana spotted a coffeeshop she hadn't seen before. It seemed busy, people streaming in and out of sleek glass doors, a bustling clientele filling a warm space.

"That's new," she muttered. She hadn't seen it before—Bear Coffee, with a cute logo of a bear curled around a coffee mug.

"Oh, it's been open for a couple years," the driver said, "and it's pretty popular. Really nice atmosphere. You should try it sometime."

"Huh," Nana pondered, "I guess I must have missed it."

It bothered her, though. She really hadn't seen it before, and on the corner of the street, it wasn't hard to miss. Sure, it'd been a while since she'd come to this part of town, but the driver had said _a couple of years. _

A couple of years. God, time passed so quickly.

When they arrived Nana thanked the driver, digging through her pockets to pay the fare, then watched the yellow car streak off. Then she turned, seeing a familiar apartment. The relief that swept through her was staggering; her knees almost gave out, but Nana managed the short trip from the sidewalk to the front door.

She rapped on it loudly. It was midday, so he'd definitely be up by now. Maybe he'd send Toshinori to the door, tall lanky form filling the frame, eyes bright when he saw her.

The door creaked. A rough voice started before it even opened.

"Boy, if you—"

The door stopped. The voice stopped.

At first Nana didn't know where to look, and then peered down at the old man hunched, gripping the door. Long, silvery hair framed a weathered face. He peered up at her, and their eyes met.

Nana knew. It was him.

They stared at each other for a long while. Nana's heart pounded in her ears. Sorahiko was unmistakable. Those were the same eyes that had laughed at her, that cutting gaze that was softening now. And the shape of his face. But the shadows had deepened there, and more lines had crept across his cheeks, in the corners of his eyes. Age had weathered him.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. It was one of the only times she'd seen him like this, speechless, but Nana found her voice first.

"Sora… Sorahiko?"

"You," Sorahiko said, but he faltered. Tears rose in his eyes, and Nana found herself overwhelmed by the emotion in them. He opened his mouth again, gasping, trying for words. A wrinkled hand, smaller now, gripped the doorframe like he was holding on for dear life.

"Nana?" he whispered, a pleading note to his voice. "Is… is it really you?"

"I don't know what's going on," Nana said, pleading back. "I woke up. I came here to—find you and Toshinori. It's me. That's all I can promise you. Help me, Sorahiko."

A distant look crept into his gaze, and then his eyes snapped back to awareness.

"Your Quirk?" he asked roughly, and Nana stumbled half a step at how direct the question was.

"One for All," she answered, and acceptance slid over his face. There wasn't another soul besides the people in their circle who knew about One for All. A too-closely guarded secret meant that anyone who knew had to tell the truth. "And my own. Healing Touch."

"We met behind a supermarket," Sorahiko said before Nana could say anything. "I was under an internship and you'd just gotten One for All, and we fought a group of thugs together. You accidentally hit me in the face but you healed me later, after the fight. And we became friends."

Acid bubbled in the back of Nana's throat. She swallowed it back. The shock had come, but she fought her way through it. It— this— the man in front of her was still Sorahiko, no matter how much _older_ he seemed. And he could help her. She trusted him to.

"Are you going to let me in?"

Sorahiko leapt away from the door, and Nana shuffled in. A wave of tiredness rushed over her, and she braced herself against the wall. At least the inside of the apartment hadn't changed even if its owner had. Nana took in the familiar sights and smells and sagged weakly.

He shoved her towards the couch, and Nana collapsed on it, aching and tired. Any traces of adrenaline were gone. She noticed her hands were shaking and pressed them tightly together. Healing had drained her, even if the wounds hadn't been that bad.

Sorahiko was muttering to himself, looking lost. He'd walk a bit, then stop and look at her as he didn't believe she was really there.

He stopped midway through his trek back and forth on the wood floor, then spun and disappeared into the other room. Another voice rose between the walls, young and boyish, and Nana's heart leapt in her throat.

But the boy who appeared in the doorway wasn't hers. He was— small. A mess of green hair, deep like the forest Nana loved. An open, soft face with wide eyes and dotted with freckles.

"—don't, what—"

He stopped when he saw her. Sorahiko crossed his arms behind the door.

"I'm not senile," Sorahiko said, and it was a bit of a question.

"Who… oh," the boy responded. Recognition flooded green eyes. He blinked at her rapidly, then turned to Sorahiko, and back again. "Oh. Oh. That's— yes— no, no, she— um. That's… _her_."

_Her _was said a little wondrous, a little reverent. The way someone might speak of a god.

"Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Nana finally snapped at Sorahiko, half-hidden behind the boy in front of him, and Sorahiko laughed.

"That's her," he said, grinning.

"So- sorry," the boy said, "you… must be really confused. Um, you don't know me, I know, because we've never really met, but I mean, I, wow, there wasn't ever really a chance that we'd meet but I guess it's happening. And if it's really you then that means this is some— it's got to be a result of a Quirk, isn't it."

He was cut off as Sorahiko shoved him forward. The boy stumbled, twisting to squint unhappily but snapping his mouth shut. He approached her slowly, then bowed.

"Introduce yourself first," Sorahiko ordered, some of the rigor returned to his voice. "I'm calling Toshinori. We need to talk."

He disappeared before she could see him again. Nana was still reeling. Sorahiko was old now, much older than when she'd last seen him a few nights ago, and this boy was _here_, and Toshinori was not. The only thing she could hold onto was that he was okay, if Sorahiko was calling him.

The boy swallowed. He peeked at her through his lashes and flushed, but then Nana saw a smile appear slowly like sunlight through the clouds. It reminded her of Toshinori. He bowed again.

"My name is Midoriya Izuku," he told her, and the smile became sad, "and I'm— well… I'm the ninth holder of One for All."

Everything stopped.

"The ninth," Nana said slowly. "You're…"

His boy. Toshinori's.

"That's me," Midoriya said. His smile faltered, shoulders hunched. "And you're the seventh."

She found herself nodding. Nana hadn't placed him yet; all she'd seen of him was nervousness, and a touch of a gentle heart. But there hadn't been a ninth, before.

And what that meant. The pieces slotted together. The coffeeshop. Sorahiko. Nine holders of One for All.

"So this… this is the future," Nana said slowly, trying the words, and a pained expression flashed across Midoriya's face. She tried to smile at him to ease it. "And you—you're the future, too."

They considered each other for a moment. The past and the future. Midoriya was young, younger than… her son, now, than Toshinori. She wondered where he was. What path he had found in life without the danger of Nana's presence. Would he want to be a hero, too? Were his eyes as bright as Midoriya's?

Nana paused. Midoriya wet his lips nervously, eyes flickering from her to the door Sorahiko was past, his shadow across the floor.

"If this is the future…," Nana put together, "where…"

She was afraid to ask. Midoriya blinked twice, waiting, and Nana summoned her courage.

"Where am I?"

Midoriya dropped his gaze. His hands twisted together, and Nana spotted scarring across his knuckles, the skin pale.

She understood.

"I- I'm sorry," Midoriya said, eyes flicking back up to meet hers. Sadness pooled in the corners of his eyes. "I know that's not what… you'd want to know."

Her breath caught in her chest.

When it came down to it, Nana had always known death was inevitable. With an enemy as powerful as All for One… with the line of deaths pressed on her shoulders, she knew one day she would join them.

But it was one thing to know, and another to _know. _

Her vision blurred for a moment when it hit her. She'd left behind… oh, she'd left them all behind. She'd left them all behind. Her heart ached.

A small hand slid over hers. Midoriya crouched by her side, hesitant, but Nana turned her hand over and pressed their palms together. Warmth seeped between them, pooling. Power kindled in her blood, and a different warmth danced across her skin as One for All rose to the surface. A shock passed between them. They both jerked backwards, but Nana held onto Midoriya's hand and felt an echo pass between them. For a moment she saw a green light dance between his fingers like lightning, sparking up his arm until it disappeared again and the moment passed.

"If it's worth anything," Midoriya whispered, "I'm glad you have this chance. Even for a moment to get to see… to get to see the things you didn't. And the future you shaped."

And she saw a spark of something greater in him in that instant. Perhaps a glimmer of why he'd been chosen. Why he was the ninth.

"Yes," Nana murmured, tongue thick, "thank you. I'm glad, too."

Sorahiko burst back into the living room. He paused when he saw them, and then his expression turned stormy again. He'd only grown more sour with time, Nana supposed. It was funny.

"He's on his way," Sorahiko said, and Nana's breathing went shallow. Sorahiko didn't seem to notice, but Midoriya squeezed her hand. Her friend rolled his eyes. "I told him to get his butt over here and he spent ten minutes asking me what was happening."

He scowled at Midoriya. "He thought you'd broken something again."

Midoriya flushed—anger or embarrassment, she couldn't tell. "I didn't!"

"Damn well you didn't," Sorahiko continued, sniffing disdainfully, "because I'm a much better teacher than him."

"He's not so bad," Midoriya said weakly. "All Might is trying!"

"All Might," Nana said wondrously, and she felt her mouth stretch into a smile. He'd confided the name to her, voice high and nervous. She still remembered the colors of sunset on his face, the wind in their hair—he wanted to be stronger still, as naturally as he'd taken to having a Quirk. She hadn't been able to help herself, punching him on the shoulder and telling him it didn't matter what his hero name was. He was still just _squirt _to her, and they'd laughed, and she'd told him it was a good name.

She'd liked it. Hearing it now like it was real— she liked it more.

The others fell quiet, looking at her. She registered the rest of what they'd said then, and narrowed her eyes at Midoriya.

"Broken something…?"

Midoriya covered his face with his hands, turning red. Sorahiko rubbed his chin.

"_Your _boy," he said pointedly, "is an awful teacher. The first time this one used One for All he broke his arm. Absolutely useless. Midoriya's learned more here than he has in the past year."

Midoriya muttered a protest, but he didn't really disagree.

"He's a good hero," Midoriya said finally, dropping his hands. His eyes went starry. "The- the best! But, um, his teaching…"

"—is lacking," Sorahiko finished. He scowled again. "I tried to get it through his thick head… bah. I kept telling him, _you can't treat the boy like he's you, _and _what _did he say back to me?"

"Sorahiko," Nana laughed, and a genuine smile appeared on his face.

"It's really you," he said. "I would have never thought…"

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here," Nana told him. She had missed years. It had been a long time since they'd met, and Nana was hard-pressed to remember a time when they'd been apart. Her friend, her confidant. When she'd imagined the future, she'd seen the both of them together, aging gracefully, fighting back-to-back as they always had. Death had been a looming possibility in her dreams, but so had the idea of growing old, of taking down All for One, of them escaping the cycle of death.

Now she was young and he was old. The difference between them was staggering. And _oh_, Toshinori was older now, a full-fledged hero. They'd all grown forward without her.

"You're here now," Sorahiko said.

An ember of hope, a spark of light in the dark. Like Midoriya had said—a chance, to see things she never would have been able to. The tree with its thick branches and strong roots, sprouting from the seed Nana had sowed. A future without her. A future with.

"Yes," Nana agreed carefully, "I'm here."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Secondhand**_  
achieving elysium

_two: old wounds_

* * *

Midoriya, it seemed, was a bit of a fanboy. It was a bit endearing. Anyone could see the way his eyes shone when he talked about heroes, and Nana could tell he really, really believed in helping others. He wanted to be a hero, plain and simple.

When he said _All Might_ he said the name like it really meant something.

Choosing a successor for One for All was— a hard task. Nana knew because it had taken her a long time to find Toshinori, and even after she'd found him she'd doubted if he was really the one. But she'd never regretted choosing him.

It had taken a longer time for Shinroku to meet her, too. Just a little luck. Just a little chance Nana might not have had if she hadn't been in the right place, at the right time. Shinroku had gone through three others, unsatisfied. They were strong, but not strong enough to carry the burden. They would be good heroes, but not good successors. They had never held the hand of loss.

Midoriya…

If Nana was being honest, she didn't know if he was the right one. When they had held hands, when they had shared a small kindness, she'd thought, _I see. _But Nana had yet to see him in action, so she kept her judgement to herself, waiting for the right time for him to reveal his heart to her. She believed in Toshinori, though, in his choice. He'd seen something in Midoriya that Nana had yet to.

He was a good kid, though. Nana could tell that. He had a nice set of manners. He was determined. But Nana could tell he was scared of something.

That was what Nana was worried about—that his courage would fail him at the wrong moment, and everything would fall apart.

Midoriya was telling her about the Sports Festival this year, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he described the challenges and his fellow competitors. Nana was content to listen as she sipped at warm tea and worked her way through a plate of crackers. He was bubbling with energy as he talked about the most interesting Quirks and parts, but partway through the conversation when his phone rang.

He stopped, hands still jerking a little midair as they caught up with the rest of him.

"Excuse me," Midoriya said abruptly, standing and strolling away as he lifted his phone to his ear. It was such a sudden change that Nana found herself reeling a bit. Sorahiko watched him go but made no comment.

"What do you make of him," Nana said softly after Midoriya had left, "_really_, Sora."

He narrowed his eyes at her for the little barb, but stretched. Nana heard his bones pop and winced. She supposed it was the one thing she wouldn't miss from growing old.

"I like him," Sorahiko admitted after a long pause. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and let out a long breath. "He's… hmph. I thought you might like him."

"I— do." Nana pinned him with her gaze. "But that wasn't what I was asking."

Sorahiko chomped loudly on a cracker. She wanted to snap at him, but he was really thinking and not drawing it out in a ploy for his own amusement.

"I think so," and it wasn't a full answer, really. She supposed he didn't know Midoriya well enough to give her one. He suddenly barked out a laugh. "He's—he and Toshi are just alike, though. Don't worry. Your boy picked someone just like him."

"You laughed," Nana said.

"I shouldn't have," Sorahiko grumbled darkly. He slurped at his tea, and met her eyes. "Toshi's a complete knucklehead. And now there's _two. _It was hard enough dealing with the one."

"You love him, though," she said, voice soft, "I know you."

"I loved him because you did," he replied, the exasperation slipping from his tone. He set his tea down, and reached over to cover her hand with his, wrinkled skin soft. She suddenly felt younger than she was.

"Sorahiko…"

From the other room Midoriya's voice rose and fell again. She could hear the pitch, a soft high buzz, but he was speaking too quickly for her to make out the words.

"Dunno what we're going to do with you, though," Sorahiko grunted, dropping her hand. He pressed his lips together. "Time is a— fickle thing."

Nana sighed. "A Quirk sent me here," she said, and though Nana wasn't sure it was the only explanation. "But I doubt its permanence. Eventually I'm going to have to go back to when I came from."

Sorahiko suddenly sat up straighter, frowning. "You… _ahh…_"

"Sora?"

Midoriya interrupted them, shuffling back in.

"What's up with you?" Sorahiko asked, moving smoothly from whatever speculation he'd had to Midoriya. Nana scowled at him.

"A friend just called me back," Midoriya said. He threw himself back on the couch, looking upset. "I was asking her about Iida…"

Iida. The name sounded familiar.

"Ingenium's younger brother," Sorahiko noted, and Nana nodded, the name returning to her. She'd never been close with the line of heroes, but she was familiar, at least.

"Mm," Midoriya confirmed, "I'm just worried about him, that's all."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, though Nana wondered what that meant.

"Stirring up trouble with his internship?" Sorahiko asked, tone mild. He procured a spoon and began to stir at his tea, feigning disinterest, and Midoriya clasped his hands in his lap.

"I hope not. He's… um, in Hosu. After— I don't want him to go looking for, ah, trouble."

Sorahiko's spoon stopped.

"Hm," was all he said. Nana glanced between the two of them. Obviously she was more than behind on the times, and missing some piece of news that would have made the situation make more sense.

"That's not something you need to worry about," Sorahiko said firmly, in the manner that meant he didn't want to hear about a topic anymore. "Toshi's coming."

"Oh," Nana and Midoriya said at the same time. They glanced at each other, Midoriya's eyes ringed with surprise like he'd forgotten.

The last time Nana had seen Toshinori was just yesterday. Yesterday for her; she'd cut off training with him early because of the storm coming in. Thick roiling clouds that smelled like rain and promised no good. She'd told him… she'd told him…

A brief stabbing pain shot through her head. Nana hissed, and two pairs of eyes shot to her face. She grumbled something, waving her hand dismissively.

Their attention was diverted when someone knocked on the door.

"I'll get it," Midoriya announced. He looked at each of them carefully as if waiting for someone to disagree, but neither Nana or Sorahiko said a word.

"You go," Sorahiko told him. He waved a hand, though Nana saw the minute tremble in it. "You're young and spry."

Midoriya muttered something about Sorahiko being much faster considering he'd wiped the floor with Midoriya just the day before, but he obligingly shuffled out to go to the front door. She heard the door open. She heard Midoriya's voice, soft, and another, deeper, louder.

Nana closed her eyes. _Toshinori. _

"—alright…"

"I'm _fine_, there's nothing wrong, well… you really have to see. Actually I think…"

A set of footsteps. She stood dizzily. Nana's heart beat quickly in her chest; she turned, and he was there.

She wasn't ready to see him.

He was— it was—

The first thing she noticed was that he'd outgrown her.

A lump formed in her throat. Tall. Tall enough that Nana would have to reach up to ruffle his hair, if she wanted. A thin, almost-skeleton form hidden by baggy clothes. He had a narrow, pointed face—gaunt, sharp cheekbones pressing against skin—framed by soft, golden hair that was longer now. And a… tiredness to him. She'd seen it in Sorahiko, too.

Toshinori took in a breath that sounded more like a sob and shook his head, hair falling in front of his face.

"You can't be real," he said. Nana was used to seeing light in his eyes when he looked at her. This time there was nothing. A gaping hole opened in her chest, not a physical wound of any kind, and she felt something wet trickle down her face. "You- you're _dead_."

Behind him, Midoriya stood twisting his hands together. He was pale, but Nana couldn't tell what he was thinking. When he caught her looking he offered her a reassuring smile and tilted his head in Toshinori's direction.

But Nana couldn't find the right words. She couldn't get them past her throat, a sour taste beginning to accrue in her mouth. She just stood, transfixed, and Toshinori looked at her like she was a ghost.

To him, Nana thought, she was.

Sorahiko stepped up next to her. He took her arm, pressing gently with his fingers, and walked her forward. A step, then two, until they had crossed the short divide.

"Toshinori," he said, and his voice was as grave as when he'd spoken at Tadao's funeral. "She's alive."

Toshinori opened his mouth; then his features twisted and he coughed hard into a hand. Midoriya silently handed him a napkin, and Toshinori dabbed at his mouth. The fit was over in seconds, but as he pulled his hand down Nana saw the redness peeking out on the edge of the napkin.

She was moving before she even realized, catching his wrist, gently turning his hand towards her. A few drops of blood. He closed his fingers tighter around the napkin, tucking it down away from sight, and Nana looked—up—at him.

"I—" he started, voice low, and then faltered. Blue eyes dropped to her hand, still wrapped around his, and then to her face. "You're… here?"

He said it confused. He said it like the kid she'd seen yesterday, the same person, still finding his place in the world, still looking—up—to Nana.

"Toshinori," Nana said, and gripped his shirt, and pulled him into her arms. He dropped into them like his strings had been cut, but Nana gathered as much of him as she could, folding strong arms around his back and grasping at the fabric there. He put his head on her shoulder so she could feel his breath shuddering against his neck.

"It's okay, squirt," she told him, and Toshinori laughed wetly. Nana ran a few fingers through his hair and marveled at him. He'd grown up. He was a hero. The man in front of her—a hero.

And the words came back to her.

What she'd said yesterday to Toshinori before she'd sent him home, as the sky had deepened around them ominously. She'd scanned the coming storm and told him she was going to do a quick round of the streets to make sure no one would get caught in it. And Toshinori—brave and selfless—asked to come with her. She'd turned him down. Nana was glad for that.

Instead she'd squeezed his shoulder.

_Don't worry, _and Nana had smiled, and everything had been alright. _I'll see you soon. _

"It's good to see you," she whispered.

Toshinori pulled back. A sheen had appeared over his eyes.

"I don't understand," he admitted, voice cracking. "You died, Nana. You… All for One…"

"I know."

Her fate was inevitable.

Sorahiko hadn't said it in so many words, but he didn't have to. She knew him too well. He wouldn't have ever looked at her the way he had. But Toshinori had only confirmed what Nana knew.

Here, years in the future, Nana was dead.

"How…"

"Well, stop standing there and use that brain of yours, boy," Sorahiko interrupted. He crossed his arms over his chest, and he'd returned to himself, impatient.

"We were discussing it earlier," Midoriya broke in. He waved his hands in a circle. "From what we know it has to be some sort of—time travel. Maybe the effect of a Quirk, because it's the only way that any of this is possible, of course, if it's possible at all. Not, um… resurrection. Though the implications of a time travel Quirk… we might have to see if anyone else was affected, or do some research. I mean, I've never heard of a time travel Quirk to this magnitude before—to be able to span _years… _it's really incredible."

He flushed. Nana blinked at him, surprised, but Toshinori was the one who laughed. It wasn't malicious, though; instead he seemed amused, and grateful.

"Thank you for explaining," he said, cutting off what Nana figured was an apology. Toshinori smiled, and it was genuine. "A time travel Quirk."

"Toshinori. Do you remember—" Sorahiko paused, glancing at Nana before he said it.

"Oh, just spit it out. Nothing to be done for it."

Sorahiko changed his focus to her. "—you went missing for a number of months. No warning, nothing left. One day you were there and the next you'd disappeared. We couldn't do anything about it and we were scared that All for One might…"

"We kept it a secret," Toshinori continued, catching his strength. "We were worried if All for One knew you were missing he might cause trouble that I couldn't handle alone. So we kept quiet and tried to— and we waited for you to come back. Wherever you'd gone."

Sorahiko began to laugh. He bent over, still laughing, then straightened with a grin.

"We were idiots," he spat out, and it was so out of the blue that Nana found herself laughing, too.

"We…" Sorahiko wheezed. He shook his finger at Nana. "You treated us like fools. You said you hadn't gone anywhere. You were looking for—bah. It wasn't _wherever_ she'd gone, Toshi. You didn't lie."

"Not where," Toshinori said, realizing, "but when."

"And I let it go," Sorahiko grumbled. "You've _got _to be kidding me."

"So I—will go back."

"You have to," Sorahiko said. His shoulders drooped. "You're not meant to be here. You don't belong in this time."

"That's very welcoming of you, Sora."

Toshinori coughed again, choking. Sorahiko just grinned, wider and wider.

"God, Nana," he said, reaching and clasping her arm. "I've missed you."

"I haven't," Nana replied, but she trailed her thumb along the inside of his wrist. "Not one bit."

"Alright, that's enough of this," Sorahiko said abruptly. "Enough time has passed as it is. Midoriya, come with me. Your control over One for All isn't getting any better when we're standing around talking."

Toshinori made to move, but Sorahiko stopped him.

"And you," Sorahiko said, jabbing a finger in Nana's direction, then in Toshinori's, "You teach him how to teach. I don't want to see Toshinori in training until he can get a rational thought through that head of his."

"Yes, Gran," Toshinori said, lowering his eyes. Nana felt her lips twitch.

"Sure, grandpa," Nana teased, and Sorahiko, halfway out the door, stopped.

"I'm your elder now," he barked, "so show some respect."

"Only my greatest," Nana returned truthfully.

Sorahiko dragged Midoriya out of the door. Nana smiled. He'd push Midoriya as far as he could go, and then some, but not so far things would regress instead of progress.

"Your teaching must suck."

Toshinori had the self-awareness to wince. He scratched his head. "There are a great many things I'm not good at," he admitted, "but I've learned that teaching is one of them."

"And there are many things you are good at." She flicked his nose. "Tell me why Sorahiko said that."

"Ah…" Toshinori quailed. "Midoriya's had a much more difficult time adjusting to One for All than I did when I was still learning. He's— I'm not quite sure how to help him, really."

Nana raised a brow.

Toshinori himself had adjusted well to having it. When she'd finally given it to him—just a few months ago—he'd taken to it easily. Even though he'd been Quirkless, after he'd begun to use One for All Nana could hardly tell. He was a natural.

Nana had been a healer before she'd been a fighter. She'd used her hands to stitch together skin before she'd learned to curl them the right way to throw a punch. She'd learned to be both, and Shinroku had taught her when to use which.

Toshi, though.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

She looked carefully into his face. He was still fighting for it. Still going, long after she was gone. Nana could tell.

"You're a fighter, that's all."

He'd always been.

"So is Midoriya," Toshinori protested. His face sobered. "He's had it more difficult than me, I think."

Nana blinked, surprised. "He's Quirkless."

She hadn't realized. The scars on Midoriya's hand.

Toshinori smiled wanly.

"He was." Then he sighed. "But I fear the world just gets crueler. He's tough. A very strong spirit. I thought he could handle One for All, but if he uses too much of it, his bones break."

"Emotionally, maybe," Nana said, "but physically, maybe not."

She was thinking now, though. Midoriya had broken _bones _using One for All. Shinroku never had, Nana hadn't, and as far as she knew, Toshinori hadn't either yet. But she also knew that One for All just—grew stronger. How much sheer power did it hold now? How much power needed to keep getting passed on before it was enough?

Nana didn't kid herself. She was strong. Whenever she used One for All there was little in the world that could overpower her. And still she'd lost to All for One.

Had Toshinori? When it broke your heart, was it enough? When it broke your bones, was it enough?

"He's better than me," Toshinori sighed. Nana had seen the fond look in his eye when he'd looked at Midoriya. And she'd seen the way he looked at Toshinori back, like Toshinori had hung all the stars in the sky.

"You care for him."

"Of course!" Toshinori's eyes lit with a spark. "He's—I thought you would love him the same, if you ever met him. He's brilliant. Not just as a hero, but as a person… he's taught me a lot, too. After I met him I never wanted…"

"Don't you think I felt the same way as you?" She nudged him. "You came into my life at the right time, right when I needed someone… for a long time there I was lost."

"You…"

"I needed you," Nana said plainly. "Not just to be my successor, Toshinori. I needed _you._"

Toshinori scoffed. "And all that did against All for One…"

"Did you," she started hesitantly, "did you fight him?"

Toshinori sighed. "Six years ago."

Nana shivered, a chill trickling down her spine. That was such a long time. He didn't say it like he'd won.

She wet her lips.

"What…?"

"I'm sorry," Toshinori cried, sliding to his knees and lowered to the hardwood floor. "Nana, I'm sorry, I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. I'm sorry I couldn't. I'm so sorry…"

She couldn't breathe, but Nana crouched down, pushing him back up with her hands to look at her. When he winced in pain she stopped, and Toshinori guided her hand to the hem of his shirt and gently lifted the edge.

Nana recoiled. She stopped breathing entirely.

Across his side a deep wound sat, old and scarred. It cracked outwards like glass, and the skin was dark and sunken there. Like something had been taken from him—more than blood and bone and torn flesh but more, more, more.

"I thought I won," Toshinori choked out bitterly, voice thick with unshed tears. "I thought it was over and I'd finally— and whe- when I fought him I thought if- if only you'd… and you kept me safe from him and I couldn't. Defeat him. It's like he's back from the dead."

Toshinori had always tried so hard. And he had always given everything he had. All Might was a name to her that meant he was willing to.

"Well, so am I," Nana said firmly. He didn't look at her, so Nana gripped his arm. "_Toshinori._"

He looked at her finally, and Nana lifted her hand to his face.

"You never met Shinroku," she said gently, "you never had the chance. He was killed a long time ago—but I loved him. He wasn't that much older than me, you know. He was more like an older brother than anything."

Toshinori blinked at her. She didn't talk about Shinroku much with him, though Toshinori had heard a few stories.

"Why…"

"When All for One found us, he told Shinroku he'd kill us both. He said he'd take Shinroku first, and once he was done he would kill me—unless I gave up One for All." She'd kept her voice steady, but now it shook. It'd been a long time, but… "I couldn't give him One for All, so he attacked. And Shinroku put himself around me and blocked him."

Toshinori made a pained noise. She did not need to know her own death to know she would have died for him.

"And Shinroku told me to run." Nana's mouth trembled. "He said he would beat All for One, but he needed me to live first. So I ran, and Shinroku died alone."

She scrubbed at her eyes. "For years I thought about what would have happened if I hadn't run, or if I'd gone back. It should have ended that day, but it didn't. And I had to keep going."

And Nana had kept going. She'd fallen in love. She'd buried her husband, and wept as she'd given up her child. And it had been so, so hard to keep going.

"It took me a long time to understand that it wasn't my fault," Nana said quietly. "And it took me an even longer time to believe that I had to run—because I would have died if Shin hadn't given me the chance to live first."

She pressed her forehead to Toshinori's. "I'm sorry I couldn't live. But I lost nearly everyone to All for One, and the hardest part is knowing that one day you're going to win and everyone who died isn't going to be there. That defeating All for One doesn't bring back Shinroku, or Tadao, or any of the people that I loved. But you have to live first, and there's going to be a day when it's all over."

And Nana hadn't been powerful enough, but she would bet she'd died wanting to live—to go back—to fight for him, her boy. That wasn't her fault either, that All for One had a power that spanned centuries. She wished she could tell Toshinori from the future and not the past.

"I couldn't do it without you. And I couldn't bear— to live…" A tear ran down Toshinori's face, and she wiped it away. "I don't know how to be strong enough."

Nana closed her eyes.

"You already are," she told him. "Shinroku's victory was giving me a few seconds to run. My victory was giving you a fighting chance. We were strong enough for that—and you… you are strong enough to defeat All for One."

"I wanted to do it for you," Toshinori whispered.

Nana took in a breath. "Don't do it for me," she said, and Toshinori startled. She smiled. "Don't do it for the dead, Toshinori. The dead can only sleep. Do it for the living."

She looked towards the door, and past that, outside, Midoriya was training to become better. Nana couldn't explain it. In the same way that One for All existed in each of them; in the same way that it ran, like a glittering thread, like fate stringing them together, she knew.

One of these days Toshinori would win the long fight against All for One. And maybe, just maybe, Nana would count amongst the living and be there to see it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Secondhand**  
chapter three

* * *

Toshinori had to go.

It was a bitter truth Nana tasted, like the bottom dredges of tea where bits of leaves remained. It was what she had accepted when she had realized her dreams of becoming a hero. After Tadao had taken her hand, so tender, and married her, and after she had held her son—

Duty first.

That had never meant that Toshinori wanted to go; just as it had never meant Nana had not wanted to stay. But they were heroes, and Nana understood when she reached up to trace the line of Toshinori's face.

"You could still— come with me," he said, hopeful but fleeting. "Or I could… I could…"

"I know," Nana said gently. She stepped back. "I'll see you again, Toshinori."

"I don't want to go."

"Don't keep standing there," she said, more insistent now as she patted his cheek roughly. "Go on, squirt. Dawdling isn't going to do anything for either of us."

Toshinori sighed. One last time. "I…"

"You have your place, and I've got mine," Nana said firmly. "It's only for a few days. After I'm done here, I'll visit. And then we'll see what happens next."

Sorahiko was a little more crass.

"Get off my lawn!" he shouted, dragging Midoriya out the door.

"What lawn?" Nana heard Midoriya's voice float distantly.

"Doesn't matter. I've been waiting my entire life to say that," Sorahiko said. He poked his head back around. "You're getting sappiness all over my floorboards. You know how hard that is to clean?"

"You heard him," Nana said, looking at Toshinori and hearing her own laughter in her voice. Toshinori smiled wryly.

"Just a few days," he said. He frowned. "Well, I'll be— going."

"A few days," Nana promised. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"Only once," Toshinori answered solemnly, but he did turn and walk slowly out of the door. His back retreated, and even his tall form shrunk with distance. Just like that.

Nana let out a shaky breath. It was not easy to leave. It was also not easy to let go.

They'd decided she was going to stay with Sorahiko for the duration of the internship, a quiet, out-of-the-way place where Nana would attract no attention. She'd help train Midoriya, at least a little. Then Nana didn't really know. But she was a hero, and there was always work to do.

She went to join Sorahiko and Midoriya for their training session outside. They'd already been at it this morning, even though Nana had woken up early—old age hadn't stopped Sorahiko from not wanting to waste a bit of time, and if anything, it had spurred him on. Now it was already mid-afternoon, nearly evening though the sun hadn't yet begun to set.

Nana hadn't gotten a chance to see Midoriya fight, though. She and Toshinori had spent the time talking.

They were training in the alleyway. Nana leaned against the building, observing, making notes to herself.

Sorahiko sprung between the walls, streaking back and forth. He was cornering Midoriya in a familiar move—attacking unpredictably, taking advantage of his own speed to spin dizzyingly around in a rush. Nana tracked his movements. A glancing blow. Sorahiko moved fast and higher than could be followed, then dropped, fists raining down.

Midoriya backed towards the wall. Hit.

He rolled, narrowly avoiding a tight fist; then Sorahiko lashed out with a foot. Hit.

"Move faster!" Sorahiko called, rocketing to land in front of Midoriya. Midoriya lunged and missed, and Sorahiko took the opening to grip Midoriya's arm and flip him over the shoulder. Definite hit.

Sorahiko leapt before he could be tackled, and Midoriya slowed.

He glanced in Nana's direction, then away. Gritted his teeth, wiping at his mouth. Determination flitted across his face.

That was when Nana knew. The tides were changing.

The next time Sorahiko came swinging, Midoriya was ready. He twisted cleanly out of the way of Sorahiko's fist. And then he dodged the next hit.

And the next.

And the next. He moved the way Sorahiko did—unexpectedly, but there was a pattern forming. He'd pause, but then he seemed to sense where Sorahiko would come from.

Sorahiko had noticed, too. Nana crossed her arms, raising her brows as she watched Sorahiko stop to carefully reconsider his approach.

"Interesting," Nana muttered, keeping her eyes on Sorahiko as he moved. Then she turned her full attention on Midoriya, observing the way he moved, the way he carried himself.

He stumbled, and the confidence that had buoyed him disappeared.

Sorahiko struck, and Midoriya launched himself back, arms lifting—

Nana couldn't stop staring.

She felt her own hands lift of their own accord, mimicking Midoriya's. Because a green light was beginning to spread across his arms, flickering and beautiful. Leaping arcs of energy like lightning spread across Midoriya's body, and he moved faster than he had before.

The light...

He caught himself, knees bending, then launched himself forward. A lightning strike, quick and stunning to see. Sorahiko dove left, and Midoriya vaulted past him—but Nana caught the barest impact of his knuckles to skin. He'd gotten a hit on Sorahiko.

"Time," Sorahiko said immediately after. "And we're done for now."

The crackling energy around Midoriya disappeared. Nana put a hand to her chest and felt her heart thudding there.

"But," Midoriya protested. "There's still— I want to try..."

Sorahiko sent him a withering look as Nana schooled her expression and moved closer.

"We're done for now," Sorahiko said again. He looked when Nana's shadow fell over them both. "I saw you watching."

Nana nodded, mulling over the fight she'd seen in her head. It hadn't ended how she'd thought it would.

"A-ah...," Midoriya murmured, but he didn't look surprised to see her standing there—no, he had caught her eye during the fight.

"That was a good fight," Nana complimented. And it had been. He'd lasted longer than Toshinori had in the beginning, though it'd been easier in some sense and harder in other ways. Toshinori had always been tall and lanky, so he made a nice target for Sorahiko to hit; but for Toshinori, at least, he'd taken well to One for All where Midoriya clearly hadn't.

Then she thought about the light, the quick movement, and thought she might have seen the beginning of something different than either she or Toshinori knew of One for All.

"It could've been better," Midoriya mumbled, looking glum. He rolled his shoulders back. "I mean, I messed up, and- and..."

"You didn't do half bad," Sorahiko said. Midoriya's eyes flashed quickly up to his face. "You caught a second wind in there, though you lost it just as quick. How did you know where I was moving, boy?"

Midoriya ducked his head, flushing. "Well- well, you were just too fast for me to keep track of, but um," and now he glanced shyly in Nana's direction, "she was watching you, so I watched her."

Nana made a noise of pleasant surprise.

"Hmph," was Sorahiko's only response.

He might not have looked impressed, but he was. Sorahiko cleared his throat.

"And-"

"The light," Nana said. "That was..."

Midoriya concentrated, the features of his face scrunching together, and the energy appeared again. It spread through his entire body, tracing lines and connecting until it was sparking through every piece of him. After a second, it flickered. Faded.

"I- I can't hold it for very long," Midoriya admitted. He scratched the back of his head and laughed. "It's a... new development. It's just, I was thinking about what you said yesterday, Gran Torino, about the whole thing, and then we had taiyaki, and, well... this is what I came up with."

"Good," Gran Torino said firmly. "We'll see what you can do with that later tonight."

"Later?" Midoriya asked.

"That was One for All," Nana cut in. "I mean, the- the energy, that was One for All?"

He'd been Quirkless before, Toshinori had said. It could not be the effect of any other Quirk. But—

"I think so," Midoriya mumbled. "I've been concentrating it all in one part of me, see, and then I would, like, break an arm and a leg, really. But then I figured if I spread it all over my body it would lessen any impact. I think."

"And it did," Nana said, thoughtful. Midoriya grinned triumphantly.

"And it did," he repeated. "Oh- Gran Torino.. sir, I thought you said we were done."

Sorahiko rolled his eyes. "I said we were done for now, not that we were finished. We'll take some time to rest and get prepared, then we're taking the train out of the city once evening hits."

"Wait," Midoriya said. "Huh?"

Sorahiko turned and trudged back towards his apartment. "We're going to go pick a fight with some villains, boy. Well, you're going to fight, and I'm going to supervise, and kick any nasty ones in the face. It's been a while since I've gone and done that."

He paused to look at Nana. "And you'll come, of course," he said, but it was half a question. From here, Midoriya couldn't see Sorahiko's face—almost pleading.

"I'll come, of course," Nana said softly to her friend. She turned back to smile at Midoriya. "Don't worry."

Midoriya finally started working again as they stepped through the door, and ran to catch up, bursting between the two of them. He apologized hastily, and then looked at both of them with wide eyes.

"Don't- worry?" He looked at Sorahiko, flippant, and Nana, who was used to this kind of thing."Wait, wait, what do you mean, don't worry? We're going to, you're taking me to fight, villains?"

His voice grew small on the word villains. He was scared.

Nana frowned at the look on his face.

"Have a little more courage than that," she said, patting him on the shoulder. He flinched, and she pulled back. "I mean— Sorahiko used to make Toshinori do it all the time, when they were training without me. And I used to take Toshinori on patrol with me when I could. It's good experience."

"Villains?" Midoriya said again. It was like he'd gotten stuck on the word and was now circling it, tethered by a line. "Don't you think that's a little— I hardly have any control over— I mean..."

"That's why we're going with you," Nana said soothingly. "We'll make sure nothing goes disastrously wrong. Chin up."

"Villains," Midoriya mumbled. He wrung his hands together; he looked a little reassured by Nana's offer of safety, but not by much.

"Oh, get that look off your face," Sorahiko said, spinning around. "It won't be as bad as you think. You'll be fine—you might not be able to take me, but you can handle a crook or two. It's not like we're facing S-Rank villains."

Color returned to Midoriya's face. "Okay," he said quietly, and that was that.

She'd seen the way his brow had creased when Sorahiko had mentioned the villain classification ranks they all followed. Most villains, of course, tended to be on the lesser scale—petty crime using Quirks was much easier, but there was always going to be the villains lurking in the shadows. All for One, looming, the puppetmaster of a whole organization of crime that haunted the streets and back alleys of Japan. That crept its roots of corruption into every crack it could squeeze through.

She bit the inside of her cheek and closed off her expression.

"I don't know about you," Sorahiko started, "well. I don't care what you do, but leave me alone."

He glanced at the time, then nodded to himself and disappeared. Nana laughed.

"I don't suppose you're leaving me alone, too?" Midoriya asked, a little sullen, and Nana shook her head. She'd hardly done anything all morning.

"Would you," Midoriya began, then dropped his gaze. "Would you spar with me then?"

Nana shook her head.

"I shouldn't." She shrugged at his pleading look. "Sorahiko's right. You need a break before we go out tonight. You don't want to be in a real fight and be dead on your feet."

They walked to the kitchen together. "I still don't understand why we're going to go fight some villains," Midoriya said offhandedly. "I mean, getting experience, sure—all my other friends are doing some light patrols, I think, but seeking out a fight?"

"Sorahiko can't just train you for the rest of the, what is it, the week? You'll get too used to his fighting style, and you'll get stuck. It's better if you're out there experiencing things yourself."

"If you say so," Midoriya said. She didn't think she was meant to hear that.

"Can I ask you something?" Nana leaned back against the counter and watched Midoriya fill a glass of water. He handed it to her, then took another one out, and she nodded in thanks.

"Uh-huh," Midoriya said, filling his own glass.

"Why did you react like that?" Nana asked. "When we were talking about villains earlier."

Midoriya's face darkened. He stared into his glass, like he was looking for an answer in the way the water distorted his vision.

"You don't have to say," Nana said. "I understand being scared of villains. Everyone's scared. But you seemed to have a..."

She didn't know how to describe it. But she'd seen that look before on a few faces—and she'd seen it on Shinroku's face, struck pale.

"I don't think you know much about Class 1-A, do you?" He peeked at her face. "I guess you wouldn't know. Er, well... earlier this year, when we- when we went to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, for training... the League of Villains attacked us. It was— bad."

"The League of Villains?"

"That's.. yes," Midoriya said, "and they weren't just a— I mean, it was planned. They targeted us specifically. And the Nomu... Shigaraki..."

"Shigaraki," Nana said. She couldn't say she'd heard the name before; actually it was entirely unfamiliar to her. "He's a villain?"

"The leader, I think," Midoriya said. He tugged his lip between his teeth. "He was directing the others. He gave orders. And he hurt— it was re- really bad."

He tipped his head back and drank from his water deeply so that he wouldn't have to keep talking. Nana paused. She hadn't expected that.

"You're a first-year student," she said. "You..."

"They want to kill All Might," Midoriya said suddenly. He set down the glass, and it rang dully. Water sloshed against the side. He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands. "And they— it wasn't human, it was- it was- strong... I couldn't do anything!"

A chill ran down her spine as more and more of the story unraveled. A creature, barely human if at all, that Midoriya referred to as a Nomu. A creature that had been built to kill All Might.

"He beat it," Midoriya told her, but he seemed less happy about it than she would have assumed. "But... it was a real threat. It withstood him at a hundred percent of One for All.

"And that- that leader, Shigaraki, he would have killed…"

Nana set down her empty glass. She lifted a hand, then remembered the way he had flinched when she had put it to his shoulder earlier and dropped it again.

"I'm sorry," she said, though it didn't quite feel like enough. "You shouldn't have had to go through that."

He was a kid. Strong, yes. Smart, yes. But in the end, Midoriya was at most fourteen or fifteen—no one his age should have encountered and seen what he had just earlier this year. He was already carrying enough of a burden, she thought, the legacy of the number one hero and the heroes before him.

Midoriya shrugged uncomfortably. "Anyway, that's all."

That's all, like it was fiction, just a tale recounted. Nana didn't feel it. Horor was coursing through her veins. She couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for him.

It was true Nana had lived a rough life, but she had never faced anything like that so young and almost alone.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"It's over," Midoriya said. "Everyone lived, and recovered. So I'm grateful."

"It's good to be grateful," Nana murmured, bowing her head. Not everyone lived. Not everyone recovered.

They drifted awkwardly. Nana didn't know what to say, and Midoriya didn't seem like the type to bring up a conversation. They were, after all, strangers. She picked up her glass and began to pass it back and forth between her hands.

"So," Midoriya said suddenly. "Er... you've never seen One for All do— what I did?"

Nana blinked. "No, I haven't. Really."

"Then, why..."

Nana tilted her head. "You know One for All changes as it gets passed on to every user. That may just be the way One for All appears for you, just as you showed me—Toshinori can change, temporarily, his form."

"What about you, then?"

"Ah," she said, bemused, "nothing special, really. You don't actually see much of One for All when I use it, but— here."

She held her hands, palms facing upward, and they prickled as she activated her Quirk. Warmth rushed to her hands, and a light glow formed about them as she moved her fingers, little blue sparks like stars drifting in the air.

"Oh," Midoriya gasped, leaning in to look. "It's a little like me."

"Yes, it is."

"You... actually, All Might said once you would have known more about One for All than- than he did. Can you, can you answer some questions I have? About it?"

Nana frowned.

"I can try." She chuckled. "I'm not sure I know more, but I have thought about it—the better we're able to understand the inner workings of our Quirk, the better we'll be able to wield our own potential. Don't you think?"

He was going to say something, but suddenly Nana realized with a start that an hour or two had passed, and the sky had already begun to darken. It meant that if Sorahiko really wanted to go into the city to find villains, the night was beginning.

"We should leave soon," Nana said. "Get dressed."

"Oh." Midoriya looked out the window. "Oh, sure, yeah. I'll go- yeah."

"I'll get Sorahiko."

She stumbled up, through the familiar hall, and to Sorahiko. He was, as expected, flat on his back and snoring loudly—he'd fallen asleep, apparently. Nana shook his shoulder.

"Sorahiko. Sorahiko."

He jerked up, catching her hand, but Nana didn't panic. He blinked at her in the feathery darkness.

Then he said, "Nana."

"It's time to go, Sorahiko."

He squinted. "Already? Mmgh. Alright, alright, these old bones need some time to catch up. Gah, I don't know why I agreed to this anyway."

"You would have been bored otherwise," Nana said.

"You don't know that."

Sorahiko dressed quickly in his costume; Nana followed suit. There was no embarrassment between them—Nana had seen him and he had seen her. There was nothing that would have made any difference, though Nana did look and see the aged, wrinkled skin and the shaky way he struggled to fit through his clothing. It must have been harder for him now he was older than he used to be, she thought, but Nana did not help him.

Midoriya was ready and waiting nervously. He clicked away at his phone but looked up guiltily when they appeared.

"Let's see what you've got," Sorahiko said, grinning. He seemed energized now that he'd had some rest, rolling his head from side to side and stretching. "Oh, this'll be fun."

"Mmhm," Nana hummed.

Midoriya seemed less shaken by the prospect of fighting villains than he had earlier. Nana was glad he had confided in her, though—it was something she never would have known otherwise.

They took the next train down. Both Midoriya and Sorahiko stood, allowing Nana an empty seat. She took it, but soon she joined them gripping an overhead bar as she gave up her seat to another woman who smiled gratefully.

The world outside passed. At the distance and the speed they were going, there was little detail, only smudges of color and flashes of places like memories flitting by.

Nana hummed quietly to herself, lost in thought. It would take a while to reach their destination, and by then it would be fully dark. The perfect time for crime.

"Next stop," a tinny voice read, echoing. "Hosu Station."

Midoriya mouthed the stop to himself, though that wasn't their destination. The train slowed ever so slightly.

A tingle ran down her neck. She looked around at the other passengers even though she had marked each one as they had boarded. Nana scanned them, looking for any sharp gazes past the newspapers, or suspicion in the briefcases they carried. She had a sense for danger, but none seemed present.

Sorahiko noticed.

"What?" he asked gruffly, and a nearby passenger shot them a glare.

"Nothing," Nana said softly, still scanning. She didn't know what she'd seen, what she'd felt subconsciously.

"Is there a problem," Midoriya whispered. Nana shook her head.

The train lurched.

Nana grabbed the overhead bar with both hands as the train shook violently. The passengers began to talk to themselves. A baby wailed, and the sound squeezed her heart.

She saw it first and threw herself forward, One for All igniting in her. Nana pulled two passengers out of the way as something massive and dark slammed into the side of the train. Glass shattered and broke. A siren wailed, and the young boy Nana grabbed cried.

The creature screeched, a webbed foot crunching against metal, and Nana let go of the boy. She threw a hand out, keeping her eyes trained on the creature, and then the next time it moved she tackled it.

They went flying out of the train. Nana heard her name being shouted, but she couldn't respond as claws tore through the fabric of her suit. She wrestled with her opponent as they fell wildly.

Nana saw the ground coming and pushed off, watching the creature hit the side of a building as she landed in a crouch. Once the shock had dissipated, Nana pulled herself up. Another hero was already rushing towards the area.

She allowed herself one glance back at the train, hole gaping in its side like a throat that had been torn out. But there was no time to go back, no time to think any more.

Nana was still a hero. The creature—the Nomu, she realized, the only thing it could have been—shifted to its feet, growling. There were people to protect.

And duty came first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Secondhand**_  
chapter four_

* * *

Hosu was burning.

Thick smoke drifted between buildings, covering the sky in a greyish haze that could almost be mistaken for clouds in the darkness. Nana pressed her arm over her mouth, trying not to inhale any as she circled her opponent.

The Nomu was terrifying. It was unlike anything or anyone she'd ever fought—fast, much beyond human limits, and strong.

Built to kill All Might.

It shrieked, and Nana dug her feet back against the ground. She flexed her fingers, then balled her hands into fists and lunged forward. The Nomu leapt out of the way. She slid underneath, twisting, bending her knees.

One for All poured through her veins, coalescing as she jumped and tackled the Nomu around the neck. It screeched, louder.

She scrambled up the the broad back, boots finding traction, and kept a death grip around the Nomu's neck. It screeched again, claws reaching back and trying to swipe her. One missed, but another got her.

"Hey!" The Nomu spun, and Nana screamed, holding on as her fingers slipped. She scrabbled at its neck, legs swinging freely. Her stomach swooped.

"Get off!" a voice called. She didn't bother responding, hauling herself up. Now distracted, the Nomu crouched; she felt powerful muscles tense underneath her.

And then Nana, making sure to hold on tight, reeled one fist back and drove her knuckles into the exposed brain. It jerked; Nana hit it again and again, and it spasmed underneath her.

The Nomu stumbled back, and Nana lost her grip. She dropped, hitting the curb and rolling. Pain split across her side. It was only instinct that dragged her out of the way of a crushing weight that fell.

The other pro hero took the opening. Nana shielded her face as his body burst into flame, and the pro launched forward. As the Nomu clambered heavily to its feet, a wall of searing fire cut it off.

"You didn't listen to me," the pro hero growled at her. She scowled right back.

"I was fighting it," she replied, keeping her eyes trained on Nomu. A few more pros joined them in the area, reaching towards civilians and herding them towards safety.

"It doesn't matter," the pro hero snapped over his shoulder. Nana frowned at his back as he surged forward and sent another hot blast of flame towards the Nomu. His hands were burning white, the heat so much Nana could feel it on her face.

"I'll get this one, you go help somewhere else!"

She only paused once, but the pro who had taken the Nomu was strong. Fire hungered.

Nana turned her back on him, the fight still thrumming in her veins as she ran in the streets. Her mind locked down to her tasks. Nana kept her face and voice calm, smiled at lost children gently and spoke to the civilians, even as her heart pounded endlessly. In the back of her mind she remembered Sorahiko and Midoriya, two wispy figures getting further and further away as she'd dropped through the air. The screams of the passengers fading in her ears. Her name.

They would need help, too—the passengers. Hopefully Sorahiko would have stayed to assist them, and Midoriya with him. Nana made up her mind and headed in their direction, remembering the gaping hole in the train.

The sound of sirens cut through the air, but it was crying that stopped her.

Nana turned on her heel, navigating blindly. She heard the sound of crying like it was an invisible thread in her chest pulling her towards it, and saw a child wandering in the street. Alone and vulnerable.

She crouched down. "Hello," she said, smiling. He blinked at her. "My name is Nana—I'm a pro hero. Do you need help?"

He stumbled towards her, and Nana took him in: a crop of brightly-colored hair, pale skin, but no visible injuries that she could see. Then he lifted his arms towards her without a word.

"It's alright," Nana murmured. She lifted the child in her arms—oh, he was so small, and so light to hold. "It's alright, now. What's your name?"

"Dakao," the kid whispered in her ear.

"You're very brave, Dakao," she said, smiling. "Do you know where your parents are? Relatives?"

"I ran outside," Dakao mumbled, hiccuping. "I- I... I don't know. I'm scared."

"It's okay," Nana told him. "It's going to be alright. I'm here for you. I'll help you find your family."

Dakao sniffled. Then he said something quietly, and even holding him, Nana couldn't make out what he'd said.

"What was that?" she asked, scanning the mass of panicked crowds. But there, in the distance—police, corralling the crowds and trying to maintain control.

"All Might..." Dakao whispered. "He's not here."

"He'll come," Nana said.

And then she wondered.

She took Dakao to the police, holding his hand as they ran through a list and marked him down. But Nana stayed with him, telling him in soft tones about how brave he was, that everything was going to be okay. He was so young, his face so soft. His mother came bursting through a sea of people, crying; she cried harder when she saw Dakao and ran to him, gathering her son in her arms.

"Thank you so much," she said, looking at Nana, "oh, my, Dakao... you're safe, you're safe."

"Of course," Nana said woodenly, and tried not to feel like a knife was piercing through her heart. She smiled, and this, at least, was genuine—even though it hurt. "I know how it feels."

"Thank you," the mother said again, eyes gleaming, "thank you."

It was not the time to be hurting, but as Nana slipped through the streets of Hosu, she remembered the weight of the boy in her arms. Hands clutched at the back of her neck, at her suit. Another boy, a little older...

Her vision blurred. Nana stumbled and kept running. The smoke. It was the smoke stinging her eyes, and not the terrible pain that was lancing through her ribs, stopping her breathing.

"Nana!" She snapped her head to the side so quickly it hurt. "Nana!"

She lifted a hand to her mouth, relief sinking through her body.

"Gran Torino!"

He ran to her, grabbing her arms, looking closely.

"You're hurt," he said brusquely, "you didn't heal yourself."

"It's not that bad," she told him, and Sorahiko gave her a look. "Really, Sora. I'm saving my Quirk if someone— really needs it. I'll be fine."

Suddenly his gaze sharpened. "Have you seen Midoriya?"

She blinked. Midoriya.

"Midoriya?"

"I circled back to the train—I had to leave, there was another one. He wasn't there."

Nana turned and swore. She lifted a hand to her head, and Sorahiko gripped the other hand tightly. Dizziness suddenly made her knees go weak, but she kept herself standing.

"Nana," he said again. "Nana, I need you."

_I need you. _

"Okay," she said, and returned to herself. "Okay. Midoriya. What do you think... you know him better than me."

"Hardly," Sorahiko said, snorting, but he paused. "But he's like Toshi. Wouldn't be able to help himself if he saw trou—"

Nana's phone buzzed. She saw Sorahiko reach for his at the same time, and two blue screens lit the space artificially as they both looked at the alert.

A text from Midoriya—an address, pinned. Fear drenched her in cold water.

"What..."

"Hurry!" Sorahiko pulled her forward. "It's, damn him, it's Stain!"

"Stain?" Nana yelled at his back as he launched into the air towards a rooftop. She followed, gathering her strength and leaping up. They began to run, Nana following him from roof to roof, the distant, hazy lights of buildings poking through the smoke.

"The Hero Killer!" She caught a flash of Sorahiko's face. Real fear made his eyes gleam. "His friend... gah!"

For not the first time Nana wished she knew what was happening. The Nomu, Stain... it didn't matter right now, though. Whoever the Hero Killer was, he sounded dangerous—and Midoriya, somewhere in Hosu, was facing him.

They followed the pinned location down line after line of dark alley. The sound of them running, boots pounding against concrete filled Nana's ears; nothing was louder than the sound of her heart.

"Here!"

They skidded around the corner, and Nana stopped.

Just a moment, but then she sprung into action. There was a pro hero slumped against the wall, blood pooling around him. Ahead of him, three boys—Midoriya was there, good, Midoriya was alive—stood, holding each other up as they stood over a still figure.

"You idiot!" Sorahiko shouted, and crossed the alleyway. "Chasing after Stain?"

Nana paid him no mind as he began to chew Midoriya out. She knelt next to the fallen pro hero.

"You're hurt," she said, pulling off her gloves.

The pro hero laughed. "That's the least of my problems, I think."

"I can stop the bleeding," Nana told him, lifting his arm away from his wound. A large, gaping cut stretched across his side; she gritted her teeth and put her hands gently on either side.

"I'm sorry I won't be able to heal the wound all the way," Nana told him. "This might hurt."

"That you can do anything is a help," the pro hero said. The skin around the edges of the wound knitted together, and sweat trickled down the back of Nana's neck as she focused. Soft light sank between her hands, and the bleeding began to slow.

"Thank you," the pro hero murmured. She helped bandage it, and then pulled him up; they limped together towards the opening of the alleyway, where more pro heroes had appeared. She recognized the pro hero with the fire Quirk she'd fought with earlier, and the others that must have been his sidekicks.

"Endeavor," Gran Torino called. He jerked his head towards the three boys. "They caught the Hero Killer."

Endeavor swore.

Nana's gaze flitted back towards the figure on the ground. Now she saw him bound and still; behind him, on the ground, lay a katana and a knife, both bright with blood. Another sidekick came to assist them, and Nana let go, rushing over.

"Are any of you hurt?"

Her voice was sharper than she'd thought. Midoriya winced.

"Iida, Todoroki..."

"I'm alright," the boy next to him said. Shards of ice clung to his face, but he turned his gaze away. "I think Iida is injured the worst of all of us."

"I..." Iida said, "I am incredibly sorry for my unheroic actions—"

"Stop apologizing, Iida!"

Nana cut in. "Let me see."

"—as class president, I failed—"

Iida continued to apologize, but Nana stopped listening and focused. His hands were ruined. Blood stained his knuckles, but then Nana lifted her gaze and saw the wound in his shoulder. She healed it partially, her hands shaking. The edges of her vision ran white, but Nana gritted her teeth and ignored the slight tingling in her palms.

"Secure him," came Endeavor's voice. "He's done too much damage. We can't take a risk—"

"Everyone, get down!"

Nana threw her body over Iida's and shoved him down, shielding him. A rush of air sent her hair forward, her cape rippling with the gust of wind. A shadow flitted over them.

Midoriya screamed. Nana jolted and saw a twisting, struggling figure clutched in the claws of a winged Nomu, and then it clicked that he was screaming again, his voice growing more and more distant.

Sorahiko shot past her, and then Nana began to run too as the Nomu grew smaller and smaller. She pushed herself, ignoring the pounding in her head, vaulting off the street and propelling off the side of the building. Nana got to the rooftop as the Nomu rose past it, Sorahiko registering next to her. They both reached for Midoriya; suddenly, she felt more than saw Sorahiko turning in alarm at something behind them.

She leapt, arms outstretched; Midoriya's eyes met hers, and he reached back out. Her fingers cut through thin air as he mouthed her name.

Then a flash of movement. Someone leapt onto the Nomu's back, and it twisted, shrieking as a katana was driven into its brain. The silver blade glinted. Sorahiko was behind, tackling the Hero Killer. Nana wasted no time as the Nomu's flapping wings began to still. She raced for the edge of the roof and took off, snatching Midoriya out of the air as he fell. The wind tore a scream from him; she heard it in her ear as she wrapped her arms around him. One for All burst forth as they fell—

—then landed safely, holding onto each other. Midoriya sobbed something. Nana clutched him, and thought, _Toshi's boy_. Toshi's boy.

"Nana," he said, voice shuddering, "Nana, Nana..."

"I've got you, squirt," she told him. The Nomu thudded as it hit the ground, and Nana drew her cape up and blocked the both of them from the debris. Over the top she saw the Hero Killer stand unsteadily from its back, pulling out his katana in one smooth movement. She drew Midoriya closer. She could take him, she was sure. Sorahiko, who'd been after him, tackled the Hero Killer. The flash of a blade. She moved to fight him.

She didn't need to, though. The Hero Killer staggered. He took a step forward, breathing ragged, and then collapsed.

Sorahiko pinned the Hero Killer with a foot and then leaned down.

"He's out!" he called, and Midoriya made a small noise.

"Did it hurt you," Nana whispered, and Midoriya shook his head. He was trembling, though, so Nana took off her cape and wrapped it carefully around his shoulders as the others began to slowly transport the unconscious Hero Killer and the students from the alleyway. And for the second time she felt again that familiar _feeling_, the soft warmth of a body tucked in her arms.

"Nana," Sorahiko said. His voice was level and calm, but he flicked his gaze towards the growing group of people. Police were starting to gather, and someone had called the paramedics. A warning.

"I have to go," she told Midoriya, feeling like she had to say something. "You'll be alright, they'll take care of you, Sorahiko will watch you. I'll see you soon."

"You're leaving," Midoriya whispered.

"I'm not going very far," Nana said quietly, "but in the case that someone looks too closely or checks my hero license—or even, recognizes me… I just need to keep my head down for now."

"Yeah," Midoriya interrupted. His shoulders slumped, but he nodded. "I- I understand."

She squeezed his shoulder. "You're strong," she told him, "I'll see you very soon."

It hurt to tear herself away. She could not stop thinking about the feeling of him—the mantra in her mind that was of Toshi's boy. As she crept away unseen Nana remembered someone had to tell him that Midoriya had gotten hurt, involved with the Hero Killer. She walked a while, not going far as she'd told Midoriya and still able to see and hear the commotion, but far enough to take the attention off of herself.

She stopped. A wave of tiredness swept over her as she sat down on the curb and took out her cell phone. It was still open to the text Midoriya had sent; she closed it with numb fingers and began to punch in Toshinori's number.

She missed several digits and had to painfully retype it. Her fingers ached. She called.

It rang. Rang again, until Nana thought he wasn't going to pick up, but he did.

"_Nana?_"

"Toshinori," she sighed into the phone.

"_What is it? What's wrong?_"

"Have you heard about Hosu?"

"_You're- you're there? Nana, I'm- what happened?_"

"We were on the train to Shinjuku," Nana said. She leaned back on one hand, but pain flared in her palm and she pulled back. "We… we…"

"_Nana?_"

She felt light-headed now; a bit like she was floating on the warm air that was wrapping itself around her shoulders. And tired.

Very tired.

Nana blinked and realized she was tipping forwards slightly, and Toshinori was saying her name, again and again over the phone.

"_Nana!_"

"Yes," she murmured. She was still there. "I'm alright."

"_You—_"

"—shouldn't worry about me," Nana finished firmly. "But your kid- Midoriya, he's hurt. Don't panic yet, it's not bad, but he's pretty shaken up, and two others as well. I thought someone should let you know."

"_I heard…_"

She bit her lip. "I doubt they're letting this get out, but," Nana paused, glancing towards where the kids were being loaded into an ambulance and lowering her voice, "those three students of yours fought the… Hero Killer, they called him."

"_Stain,_" Toshinori croaked from the other end.

"Yes," Nana said quietly.

"_I'll- I'll have to… to go— I'll come as soon as I can, will you tell me where…_"

She drew in a breath. "I think," she said, as softly as she could, "your help is needed. And the appearance of these, these _Nomu_, as Midoriya called them…"

"Nana!"

She turned her head to the side; Sorahiko had found her, it seemed, and she lifted a heavy hand. He came to her, eyes flicking to the phone.

On the other end, she heard another voice briefly—"_All Might… assistance…_" and Toshinori's quiet sigh.

"_I… please watch over—_"

"I'll keep you updated, Toshi."

"_And take care of yourself._" His name was said again; he made a frustrated noise, then quickly added, "_I'll call you back._"

"You look like shit," Sorahiko said as Nana lowered the phone. She glanced at him sidelongs. It was not an unusual statement, not from him, but for the fact that Nana felt it that time.

"Yeah," Nana said. She lifted her heavy hands and flexed her fingers. Pain splintered under her skin. "I might have overused my Quirk."

"Nana," Sorahiko sighed. She was glad he'd kept the habit of keeping a few supplies on him when they went patrolling; now he took out a bandage and wrapped tightly the wound on her arm Nana had since forgotten about.

"Didn't I always tell you to heal yourself first," he grumbled, extending a hand, and Nana took it. She whined when the pressure hurt, then stood. Sorahiko let go of her hand and grabbed her forearms instead as she stood up, and she was glad for it; the world tipped briefly before everything righted. The tight grip Sorahiko held reminded her where she was.

"I never listen to you anyways," Nana reminded him, but she was aching and exhausted. Her hands were tender. She hissed.

"Come on, then," Sorahiko said gruffly, dropping one arm but keeping his hand on the other. "Someone's got to take care of you."

"I'm alright," Nana said, but he looked at her. She'd gotten used to taking care of herself; she'd gotten used to being lonely, lately.

"I'll be damned if I break any of my promises now that I've had a chance to fulfill 'em again."

She didn't know what that meant, and asked him as he briskly walked her to a waiting car. He nodded at the driver.

"What did you mean by that? Your promises…"

Sorahiko sighed.

Nana allowed herself to be swept up in the soft hum of the car and the clean smell that clung to the seats. It was a while before Sorahiko answered her, and he kept his gaze trained outside the window.

"I made a promise a long time ago," he said, then glanced briefly at her. Crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. "To Tadao, before he— before we lost him. Though perhaps to you it might not have been so long."

To hear his name spoken... Nana hadn't said Tadao's name aloud since his funeral. A quiet procession; it had been just her clutching Kotaro's small hand, or maybe he hers, and beside them Sorahiko. The thick smell of incense on a clear day.

She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out.

Sorahiko looked at her again but continued. "He wanted me to take care of you. In case anything happened to him, he... he asked me if I would, because he knew you wouldn't do it yourself. So I promised."

Nana lifted her hand to her eyes and pressed the inside of her wrist to one. She felt herself blink against it, saw half the world shadowed.

"I," she said, and the feeling overtook her, closing her throat. "I want..."

It returned, what it had felt like to hold that young child Dakao, and what it felt like to press Midoriya close to her, and she thought of bright-eyed Kotaro, wide-smiling Kotaro, hers. She wanted selfishly to see him. And she thought of the dimple that appeared on Tadao's left cheek when he smiled, his hands sliding over hers, the upward curve of his mouth as if he could not stop smiling when he kissed her, and kissed her. She wanted.

"Yes," Sorahiko said, and heaved a sigh. He reached between them and put his hand over hers. "It's the wanting that's the worst."

And she had lost— and he had lost— so Nana moved carefully, and put her head on his shoulder, feeling him shift to let her. Quietly she thought of all the things she had returned to, in the future, and all the things still she did not have.


	5. Chapter 5

**Secondhand**  
achieving elysium

_chapter five_

* * *

chapter five

Nana did not go with Sorahiko to the hospital the first night. He'd pulled a few strings and got them accomodations for at least two days, a small but secure hotel where they would stay. Midoriya would be in the hospital for a while yet. Sorahiko had business in Hosu now, for reasons he told her he'd explain. Nana would stay for both of them and to help where she could.

Sorahiko left her, and Nana tiredly trudged through the door to their shared room. She didn't have an extra set of clothes, though the hotel staff had been kind enough to provide her with some pajamas that Nana changed into. A too-big shirt and pants with elastic. She kept the bathroom lights off, relying only on the light streaming through the square window in the far corner. Nana did not want to see herself, and carefully showered, then cleaned the cut on her arm. She rewrapped it, and then felt the split skin on her palms as a small wound slowly opened at the base. She wrapped those, too.

When she was done, she didn't sleep, even though every part of her body was begging her to. There was too much happening for her to sleep. Nana knew Sorahiko would have scolded her for it, but she stood in front of the tall glass windows and paced. There was still smoke in the city. Flickering lights that continued, like a cry for help.

She had been to Hosu before several times; she'd never lived here, but it was only a short train ride away. This was not the Hosu she remembered, marked by a dark trickle of blood in a back alley.

This was not the world Nana remembered at all. For the first time it seemed to sink in that Nana was in a different time. It was not the electric shock every time she peered into Sorahiko's wrinkled face, or the muddled confusion of a new coffeeshop she had never seen before.

It was the helplessness. There was a storm brewing on the horizon that Nana was blind to; she could feel the warm wind but couldn't make out the clouds that were building against the sun. She didn't know what was happening. She was dead. She was dead. There were villains—stronger and stronger. There were cracks her healing would not ease. She was dead, she was dead.

Nana put her hand to the window. The glass was cool to the touch, and she pressed her palm to it even if it hurt to do so.

"Tadao," she said, for the first time, "Tadao, I don't know what to do..."

Nana had thought herself strong. She was. But it wasn't enough strength to stop an avalanche, enough to brace the world on her back.

The day before her wedding Tadao had told her, finger tracing the rim of the ring he'd given her, we will walk forward together.

What she'd seen tonight had only been scratching the surface. What were Toshinori's burdens were hers; Sorahiko's, and Midoriya's. She felt the back of her neck prickle.

There was a soft beep as a card was swiped, and Sorahiko came in. He didn't turn the lights on, mindful, but he did see her standing; she saw him in the glass reflection.

"Still awake," Sorahiko said, snorting. He jerked his head towards the single bed. "You take it. I'll sleep on the couch."

"You old man," Nana said. She crossed her arms. "I'm taking the couch."

They glared across the room at each other. Nana lifted her chin, stubborn. Sorahiko's mouth twitched. And Nana thought, how peculiar, of all the things to argue over.

Eventually they piled onto the bed together anyway, like they were kids sleeping over. There was something comforting about it. She'd been sleeping alone. It was reassuring to know she could reach over, and it would be Sorahiko there. Sorahiko who she could trust.

She slept for a very long time. Dreams followed her steadily, morphing into memory. She could hear Tadao's voice echoing but couldn't see his face; the city burned; in the thick smoke she heard the crying of a child and every time she ran to him she could not reach him. Her hands burned and blistered and bled, and behind her a shadow fell in the shape of a man.

Nana woke up mid-morning, her face wet with tears.

The bed was empty next to her, the only indication anyone had been there a slight depression and a scribbled note.

Nana—

Sorahiko's handwriting, quick and messy, not the blocky letters Tadao would have written her.

Cleanup in Hosu. Don't be stupid. Take your time. Sorry I couldn't stay - in enough trouble as it is.

Then he'd written down an address. Nana put it in her phone and saw it was closer than expected—not too far of a walk. She stretched, twisting her wrists and feeling the dull ache there. She'd overdone it, but Nana couldn't bring herself to regret that.

Sorahiko had the foresight to leave her with a set of clothes that wasn't her hero costume. He'd also left her breakfast, a cold half-sandwich with egg that Nana put in her mouth mechanically, not tasting it. She remembered what he'd told her the night before, about promises.

Nana followed directions to the address Sorahiko had written for her, then found herself outside a hospital. Surprised and faced with the front desk, she asked after Midoriya and was allowed to visit.

The three boys were sharing a room, and in the light they looked a lot better, bandaged and cared for. Nana smiled shyly when she ducked in, and Midoriya broke off mid-conversation to beam at her. His face lit up in genuine happiness to see her.

"Nana!" He grinned, and the bright boy seemed ages away from the one she'd held last night. "Good morning."

The pain eased.

"Good morning," she greeted, tipping her head, "will you introduce me?"

Next to Midoriya was Todoroki, the son of Endeavor. An evenly-split fire and ice Quirk, she noted, but what caught Nana's heart was the quiet way he conducted himself. A sort of melancholy Nana saw and felt for.

Iida was well-mannered and direct. He lifted his arms several times to gesture as he spoke but winced—the bandaging around his hands and arms seemed to suggest why. Nana would have offered to lessen the pain, at least, but she was sure Sorahiko would have strangled her for it. Like Midoriya, like Todoroki, he too seemed to carry a pain; she could see it pressing down on his shoulders, digging into his back like something unreachable. And clearer still, to Nana who had buried her husband and given away her son, he was grieving for someone.

She did not say anything about it. It wasn't Nana's right to, and not for the kids she hardly knew, but she did draw up a chair and talk. Nana wondered if there was anything she could do for them, and wished she could take each of them in her arms and say, it'll be alright.

In-between conversations, Midoriya subtly wove in an explanation of what happened. Iida had gone after the Hero Killer. Midoriya had gone after Iida. Todoroki had gone after Midoriya.

Officially, for the record—Endeavor had defeated Stain, the Hero Killer. It had really been the teamwork of the three of them that had brought down the villain that had been murdering heroes, a thought that sent chills down her spine. She hadn't been there until after the Hero Killer had been defeated... she couldn't protect them from what they'd seen.

Midoriya scratched the back at his neck and looked at her sheepishly.

"Gran Torino's been, er— stripped of his teaching license, though," he mumbled. "I feel bad- I, I mean, I had to go, but I'm sorry he lost it because of me."

She knocked her knuckles against his shoulder. "He's not going to have to put up with a bunch of students for a while. I'm sure he's beyond excited for peace and quiet."

Midoriya smiled, which meant Nana had succeeded.

She paused, then continued sternly. "You shouldn't have run off like that, though, Midoriya."

He looked down. "I know."

"That was— dangerous."

Dangerous was one word to describe it. Reckless. Idiotic, even. She couldn't deny that Iida would have been killed had Midoriya not been there, and couldn't fault his desire to save his friend, but in the clear morning light Nana was beginning to learn something about Midoriya.

"I know," Midoriya said again, stronger. She caught his gaze. He did know; he understood, at least a little bit.

"Let yourself lean on someone a bit," Nana murmured to him, flicking her eyes towards the others in the room. Iida and Todoroki had fallen into a steady conversation again, having recognized now that Nana was speaking more privately to Midoriya. "Back— Sora and I always had each other's backs."

Midoriya perked up.

"Were you guys partners?" He flushed. "I mean, as heroes..."

She ran her tongue over her teeth. "Not officially."

Every movement Nana made as a hero, every decision—it had to be careful, a little calculated.

"We were concerned about painting a target on each other's backs," Nana told him, "so officially, no, we weren't. But we didn't have to be."

Midoriya drummed his fingers against his leg. "It just never occurred to me. Erm, Gran Torino doesn't seem like the type to, well, he's just, well. Alone?"

"He has a good heart," Nana said firmly. "He might not seem like he's got a good head on his shoulders, but he's just messing with you."

Midoriya frowned.

"We fight well together," she told him, "and we— you have to understand someone to put your life in each other's hands the way we would have. He knows me in a certain way that no one else has. Or will. I trust him with that."

"I think I understand that," he said quietly. "I wish I could…"

"Maybe one day," Nana offered. He looked sad.

"Maybe," Midoriya repeated. He was thinking of someone, she thought. Then he said, "But… what made you scared enough that you needed to hide it?"

Shinroku had said, we must keep you a secret as much as possible… All For One will never hear your name from me nor mine from you.

But Midoriya had asked her. Like he didn't know.

"Midoriya," she said quietly, lowering her voice. She flicked her eyes to the room's other occupants. "Do you know the- the scar that Toshinori has. Do you know who gave it to him?"

"No- no…" Midoriya's brows drew together, thinking hard. He was fitting the pieces together. "But what does that have to do with… I mean, you, but… the- the same villain that…?"

Killed me, Nana thought, and she read the words in his drawn face.

"Yes."

Midoriya blinked at her. His mouth trembled, and then he said, "I'm sorry."

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and spread her hands. "There's not much to be done about it now. The villain— well, he's… And this," she paused, gesturing between them, "is my second chance. A taste of a life that I might not have gotten to see."

She frowned. Toshinori had said something, the first time he'd seen her… I couldn't do it… I couldn't defeat him. All For One was still out there, waiting.

Midoriya reached up to rub at his eyes. "Doesn't that make you sad?"

"It makes me grateful."

"I guess," Midoriya said, and when he still looked unhappy she asked him about it.

"Well— I'm glad I got to meet you," he told her, tugging his lip between his teeth, "but before I… hardly even knew who you were. All, er, To- Toshinori never mentioned you. Or that there was a villain that you, um, fought."

"No one told you?"

Midoriya winced, and she saw the other boys glance over sharply. Nana smiled apologetically; she hadn't meant to say it like that.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "but there.. You don't know."

He shook his head slowly, eyes widening a fraction. Nana felt her mouth draw into a frown.

He didn't know. About All For One. He didn't know.

"I'm going to—"

Nana floundered. She didn't know what she was going to do. It'd been hard enough to drag herself out of bed. To Midoriya, she was a ghost from the past, a stranger. He hadn't ever heard her name before they'd met.

"Are you mad?"

"Not at you," she reassured, then, "I don't— this is something you should- you should know."

Toshinori should have told him. Toshinori should have told him even before - or, at the very least, shortly after passing on the Quirk, like Nana had done to him, like Shinroku had done to her, back and back.

And though Nana had said nothing, Hosu had reminded her… there were always villains waiting in the shadows.

"Will you tell me then?"

She shook her head, and Midoriya gaped for a second before snapping his mouth shut.

"It's not my place," she told him. And it wasn't. "You need to know. And you need to talk to Toshinori about it… but he's your mentor, not me."

"But he—"

Midoriya clamped his mouth shut. He dropped his gaze, fiddling with his hands. Some sort of wall was rising between them, a painful part of him he was hiding away because he didn't want her to see. And Nana didn't know him well enough to tell what it was.

"The next time you see him alone," Nana said, pulling back into something more formal, professional, "please ask him about it. It is important that you know… even if he is no longer a threat."

"Alright," Midoriya said, blinking rapidly. "I will."

It was like speaking of him summoned Toshinori. He appeared suddenly in the doorway, loitering awkwardly. Midoriya lit up; Nana felt herself smile, too. The feeling was ruined by the still-remaining thought of All for One.

"Nana," Toshinori said in surprise. She reached to clasp his arm. Then he moved next to the bed, on the opposite side, to gaze down at Midoriya. "Hello, my boy."

Midoriya flushed. "Hi."

Toshinori raised a brow. He was smiling, but it felt a bit forced. "Looks like you got yourself into a bit of trouble."

Midoriya shrugged. "It was a— group effort."

There was a distant snort; they all turned to look at Todoroki, who glanced away. Toshinori turned back to Midoriya, a soft look in his eyes.

"Excuse me," Nana said, standing abruptly.

She nodded to everyone, then swept from the room. In the hallway, she straightened her back and strode away. A few people shifted out of her way.

There was no particular direction she was heading. Just— away. She scrubbed at her face roughly as she left the hospital and stood for a moment, staring out at the streets. Daylight really changed it.

Nana started walking. Keep going. Kept walking. Keep going. Just keep going. If you stop, you won't be brave enough to start again.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Nana reached for it, thinking to ignore the call—it would have to be Sorahiko. She didn't want to talk to him, not now.

But it wasn't. The number wasn't one she recognized. Nana hovered over her phone, stopping where she was, then picked up.

"Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"Hello," came a voice. She didn't recognize it either; deep, calm, and quiet. "Am I speaking to Shimura Nana?"

Nana's blood ran cold. There was only a handful of people who knew she existed right now. Sorahiko. Toshinori. Midoriya. She hadn't given out her name anywhere, and she'd been careful, though not careful enough, it seemed. Nana hesitated.

She couldn't confirm it. Maybe someone had seen. Maybe someone she knew. Or maybe— no.

"Who's asking?"

"Ah, my apologies, Shimura. I got your number from All Might." A pause. "My name is Detective Tsukauchi. I'm investigating a… particular villain, and I think you might be of some help."


End file.
